We spent the weekend at my MIL's house. For the better part of one morning, I played the I-got-the-frog-out-of-your-ear-and-am-going-to-eat-it game with Baby Boy. The fact that he laughed with the exact same level of glee for 3 hours makes me think he has no short term memory. (This could come in handy in the future when I have yet to make it to the store: Yes, honey you already had a popsicle. Don't you remember?)
My migraine started around 4. I sucked it up until 5. I went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed at the Excedrine, until I saw it had expired in '05. By 7, I was in a ball on the floor in the dark wishing I was dead.
Did I mention there was a dinner party of 15 people in the next room?
When the nausea became unbearable, I crawled into Baby Boy's room and woke him up.
"You need to go get your Daddy and tell him Mommy is sick," I groaned. Then I threw up in his wicker trash can.
I heard him announce to the dinner guests, "Mommy has throw up in her mouth. She ate too many frogs."
I think he will be a doctor.